


Not Fade Away

by Zafekiel



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Sex, Banter, Bi Solas, Blindfolds, Choking, Dorian Gets What He Wants, Fade Sex, Fade Tricks, Foreplay, Gags, Kink, M/M, Mage Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Multi, Oral Sex, Painplay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Rope Bondage, Teasing, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Inquisitor (Dragon Age), Trans Inquisitor (Dragon Age), elf inquisitor - Freeform, no beta we die like men, soft Solas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:41:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29126649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zafekiel/pseuds/Zafekiel
Summary: “Damn it, Lavellan, where are you taking me?”“You were the one who said he was bored and wanted someplace with a better view.”“Yes, but I wouldn’t keep tripping so much if you hadn’t bloody blindfolded me.”“Part of the experience.” Lavellan smiled, though of course Dorian couldn’t see it. The smile wasn’t yet for him anyway. “And speaking of experiences, you recall some of the options we discussed? I think you’ll like what I’ve settled on.”------Context: set sometime after Wicked Hearts; Inquisitor has already been romancing Dorian for some time, and is starting a new relationship with Solas. That’s it, there’s no plot, why are you looking here?
Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Solas, Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus, Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus/Solas, Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age)
Kudos: 6





	Not Fade Away

**Author's Note:**

> I'm taking the risk of having written this before I've finished the game, but it needed to, ahem, come out. Can't take it too seriously, it's meant to be ridiculous... all I wanted to do was write the three of them having fun together, I love them all so much. Yes, I know the Fade (probably) doesn't work that way. Please don't spoil me yet for the end of the game!

“Damn it, Lavellan, where are you taking me?”

“You were the one who said he was bored and wanted someplace with a better view.”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t keep tripping so much if you hadn’t bloody blindfolded me.”

“Part of the experience.” Lavellan smiled, though of course Dorian couldn’t see it. The smile wasn’t yet for him anyway. “And speaking of experiences, you recall some of the options we discussed? I think you’ll like what I’ve settled on.”

He was guiding Dorian up a mountain path, steering him well away from any stumbles despite the magister’s complaints. Even in the fading twilight, he could catch Dorian struggling to keep the corners of his mouth from quirking upward. All right, perhaps he had allowed Dorian to trip just once - it was rather satisfying to catch the other man in his arms. 

“Do you have a plan for staying warm? I can’t feel the sun on my back anymore, and may I remind you we’re well above treeline.”

“I’m well aware of your delicate floral status when it comes to body heat.”

Dorian tried to give his shoulder a backhand smack, but missed. He tried to turn it into a casual tug of the cloak over himself instead.

“You may have the internal heat capacity of a phoenix, but you’re well aware I perform poorly in sub-arctic temperatures,” he said primly.

“We’re here,” Lavellan announced, bringing them onto the rock ledge he had been aiming for, and cutting off Dorian’s complaint. He turned the other mage around so he was facing the valley, and gently undid the blindfold.

Despite his best efforts and some possibly not-exaggerated shivers, a small sigh escaped Dorian’s lips. The valley lay below them gathering a soft carpet of darkness; alpenglow glimmered on the tips of the peaks around them. In the midst of the twilight, the fortress of the Inquisition shone like a handful of gems cupped in the mountain peaks. They could hear nothing but the wind moving over rock and snow, bringing the scent of frost stinging to their nostrils.

A small line of green fire flared gently into existence around the edges of the rock they stood on. Dorian startled, but almost immediately stopped shivering as a warmth swept from the flames, far out of proportion to their size.

“Thank you, Solas,” said Lavellan. Dorian turned to see the other elf standing there, a faint smile on his face. Arrayed in the shallow cave were some soft scattered cushions, a few blankets, a large basket, and some coils of rope.

“Ah, now I begin to see the outlines of your plan,” the Tevinter remarked, one eyebrow raised. “I’d quite wondered what the outcome of our earlier discussion was to be.”

“You’ll recollect the safe words and gestures, then?” asked Lavellan.

The other two nodded. “Now you know I trust you, and so help me if you spread the word,” added Dorian grumpily.

“I would not dream of telling anyone that your safe word is Giselle,” said Solas in all seriousness.

Dorian ground his teeth. “If you can think of a less likely thing for me to say in such activities, by all means enlighten me.”

“Solas found this place with some help from the Fade, so you ought to thank him.” Lavellan laid a hand on Dorian’s arm.

“But in the rest of this I am following Lavellan’s lead,” responded Solas.

“Which you ought to do more often.” The elven Inquisitor ran one finger under Dorian’s jaw to tilt it up ever so slightly. Dorian smirked.

“I think I enjoy it when I rub off on you, Inquisitor.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Hands out.”

Smirk still in place, Dorian held out his hands together. Lavellan deliberately ignored him as Solas came up to him, slowly helping him to slip off his gloves. The Mark on his hand flared a quiet green, in time with his heartbeat. Solas looked up at him as he slowly, gently, kissed the marked hand.

Lavellan felt the Mark respond, a soft emerald wave washing over Solas’ face, and the other elf gave a sudden, pleasurable shiver. Then he stepped back and turned to find the rope on the floor, which he handed over.

“Taking your time, are you?” drawled Dorian as the Inquisitor measured out the rope.

Lavellan looked languidly over at Solas. “I wonder if he talks too much.”

“One could conclude that from a preponderance of evidence,” replied Solas gravely.

“Now just a minute! Solas, you’re one to talk about pontificating!”

Lavellan reached out and drew out the silk scarf Dorian was wearing around his shoulders in a single swift flick. He held it up to Dorian’s mouth, considering.

“It would be a pity, since he is rather good with that mouth,” he mused aloud. But seeing the self-satisfied smile grow on the mage’s face, he shrugged and swiftly gagged him, cutting short Dorian’s squawk of surprise. “Plenty of time for that later.”

Solas stepped lightly around Dorian, sliding his coat off his shoulders. He let his touch linger on the curve of the other man’s bare shoulders, and Dorian let out a hot breath around the gag. Once his arms were bare, Lavellan took his hands together and bound them palms together, checking circulation with care. Dorian followed his every move with hungry eyes. Taking his elbows, they moved towards the pillows near the back. Kneeling him on the cushions, the two stepped back to consider.

“So many possibilities,” Solas murmured.

“Should we show him what his impertinence has him missing?” suggested Lavellan, running one hand from the back of Solas’ head along down his neck and to the small of his back. Solas gave a small gasp, and suddenly Lavellan caught a faint blush on his cheeks. “Are you all right?” He paused, taking Solas’ hands in his. “We don’t have to.”

“No, it’s not that. Simply understand… I am… new to this,” replied Solas. He looked at the ground. Lavellan bent down until he could catch the other elf’s eyes.

“We won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

A faint smile came to Solas. “I trust you. I admit that banter is somewhat… difficult to keep up with.”

Lavellan smiled back. “Dorian and I can ease off on it. Right, Dorian?” He knelt to ungag the kneeling mage.

Dorian looked up at Solas, a rare sincerity on his face. “I don’t wish any words to get in the way of desire. If I’m being honest, it’s simply an easy way out. Out of… most things.”

“I think you’ve both gathered by now I rarely take the easy way out,” said Solas.

“And, if I’m being quite honest, I want you more for that.” Lavellan placed a hand on Solas’ cheek.

“I’ve never settled for less than passion,” agreed Dorian.

Solas turned back to face the Inquisitor. For a long moment, he looked directly into Lavellan’s eyes. Then he closed the distance between them to kiss him.

Solas’ lips were as soft as the rest of him. He was so slight, compared to the solid build of Dorian, that Lavellan felt his attention focus tightly on each small movement as they pressed together, afraid to miss a single subtlety. He could feel the heat from the flames at his back echoed in the warmth from Solas’ body, even as the touch raised gooseflesh of longing along his arms and back. He heard Dorian stand, breathing more heavily, but as the Tevinter moved to join them, Solas turned and quite decisively pressed down on Dorian’s shoulders until he knelt again in surprise.

“You may wait your turn.”

Delight and frustration danced in Dorian’s eyes as Solas turned back to thoroughly kissing Lavellan.

When they finally parted, Lavellan felt as if he’d suddenly drunk a sunbeam all at once. Dazed, he watched as Solas turned to kneel in front of Dorian - whose hands were still bound - and leaned forward to kiss him. He could hear Dorian’s intake of breath, his moan, his hands scrape the floor as they clenched.

When he broke from Dorian’s lips, the other man’s lips stayed parted as he breathed heavily. Solas picked up the scarf again, this time bringing it around Dorian’s eyes.

“You’ve seen a great deal. But I would rather we focus on other senses.” As he finished tying it, he began to explore Dorian’s head with his hands, running gentle fingers through his hair and down his scalp. Lavellan bent forward to stand them all up, then took to exploring Dorian’s chest, pressing fingers and lips along the muscles of his breast and stomach. He deliberately, carelessly brushed the length of Dorian already quite hard as he did so, eliciting a groan from the blindfolded mage.

“Lavellan… Solas… I…”

“Shh,” hushed Lavellan. “We’ll have work for you soon enough.” He kissed Dorian, a familiar but always delighting touch, knowing the way his lips curved and his tongue worked, where their noses might go together. Solas was working Dorian’s back, slowly reaching to encircle his waist, kissing down his spine.

Lavellan broke from the kiss to reach for one of the basket’s contents, a wide wooden spoon. Solas saw him over Dorian’s shoulder and remarked, “Did that have a previous owner?”

“It did, and it certainly will not have any other use after this.”

“Wait, what? What are you two doing? Whose object are you handling?” Dorian started to shift from his position, but Lavellan gave him a warning rap across the thighs. He hissed and bit his lip, pleasure chasing slight worry across his face.

“It’s perfectly clean, and Varric won’t miss it,” Lavellan reassured him.

“I… you’re… what?!”

“Stand still.”

Still spluttering, Dorian nevertheless obeyed. Lavellan nodded to Solas, who began to wrap another length of rope around the blindfolded mage, this time creating an intricate pattern around his torso and back. Lavellan slid the last of Dorian’s pants from him, and Solas brought the ropes between his legs, carefully ringing Dorian’s erection. The mage was trembling with desire by the time they were done.

“Damn you both,” he groaned as they both stepped back. “Where are you?”

Lavellan leaned in to murmur, “Exactly where you wanted us to be.” Then he brought the spoon down, not yet hard, on the backs of Dorian’s thighs. Dorian gasped, and Lavellan could clearly see him dripping from his tip.

Solas, in contrast to Lavellan’s strikes, ran his fingers lightly along Dorian’s skin, tracing the outline of the rope design he’d made. He captured the Tevinter’s mouth with his again, catching every muffled cry as the Inquisitor struck Dorian’s thighs and buttocks in increasing intensity.

The Inquisitor came from behind Dorian, kissed and bit the skin of his neck. “Pain is what you’ve sought,” whispered Lavellan into Dorian’s ear. He reached down to strike against Dorian’s behind. “It’s how you feel alive.” Dorian could only make incoherent noises. “This is what you wanted.” He watched closely, following every strain of the bound mage’s muscles. “Shall we continue?”

Dorian nodded, finally gasping, “By all the gods, please don’t stop now.”

Solas had stepped back to retrieve a bottle and slick his hand. Now he reached to Dorian’s straining member, stroking with one hand while holding hard to the ropes around his chest with the other. Dorian almost bent with the intensity, breathing ragged, and Lavellan struck again. He cried aloud, and came at once, staggering forward into Solas. The elf caught all of him, and Lavellan held from behind, and they sank gently to the floor among the scattered cushions.

They lay for a moment, breathing together, letting Dorian’s breath even out. Finally Solas said drily, “I ought to have expected you to make a mess over me.”

“You know… fully well… I couldn’t see you,” replied the supine mage., who was still blindfolded. Lavellan didn’t move to take it off. But Dorian turned vaguely in his direction and complained, “Varric’s? Really?”

“Closest thing to hand,” said the Inquisitor easily. He undid the binding on Dorian’s hands, letting the mage stretch. The ropes around his chest were separate, and snug without constriction.

“Am I allowed yet to behold the magnificent partners I have tonight?”

Lavellan looked at Solas, who gave a slight smile and shook his head. “No, not yet,” the Inquisitor said aloud. “I think you use your eyes too much. You ought to use other things first.”

Dorian groaned, but Lavellan could see how the challenge pleased him. The Tevinter, having regained his strength, sat up and felt for Lavellan’s hand. Clumsily, he pulled them both up.

“That’s right,” Lavellan murmured, pleased. “Find me.”

Dorian obeyed, his vanished vision making his motions less confident, more inquisitive. Instead of moving to accustomed positions, Lavellan felt Dorian’s hands meet new contours on his body. With tenderness, Dorian tugged the jacket off him, then pulled off the undershirt. Slowly, Dorian slid his hands down bare neck, shoulders, back. As he moved lower, Solas stepped in to meet Lavellan’s lips again. The Inquisitor closed his eyes and gave himself up to the sensation of the two men exploring every inch of his skin.

As Dorian made to kneel before Lavellan, Solas slipped a pillow beneath his knees. Lavellan gasped as Dorian found the line of his waist, running his fingers inside the belt along exquisitely sensitive skin. Still taking his time, he undid the buckles and tugged the tight fabric down around Lavellan’s ankles. Solas helped him to step out of it, and he stood bare before them both.

Dorian now began to run his thumbs in slow circles around the Inquisitor’s base. Solas was kissing Lavellan’s neck, and Lavellan had to support himself with one hand on Dorian’s shoulder while he bent the other arm to bring Solas’s lips to his. He shivered with each languid stroke of Dorian’s thumb, gripping the Tevinter’s shoulder hard. To Solas he murmured, “You… can you… behind…”

In response Solas kissed him harder, and Lavellan could feel him hard against his thigh. Then he vanished momentarily, and Lavellan could hear him open the basket and sort through it. He returned and draped a scarf over Lavellan’s shoulders. The Inquisitor felt the fabric along his neck and shuddered in anticipation.

He could not see what Solas was doing behind him, but he felt the smooth flow of oil between his rear cheeks. Then, carefully, the first touch of a finger, circling his opening. He felt his breathing go ragged with longing as the other elf worked. Finally, slowly, Solas slipped inside him, and he moaned aloud.

He clutched at the slick hand Solas wrapped around his waist while still holding onto Dorian. The kneeling mage bent forward, using one hand to part his small lips, and took the Inquisitor in his mouth.

Lavellan cried aloud in pleasure, feeling Solas inside him from behind, Dorian’s mouth around him in front. The two men slowed for a bit, then seemed to find a shared rhythm, and moved around him, inside him, together. Lavellan could feel the edge rushing up to him, and he tried to hold out for as long as he could. Then he felt Solas take the scarf around his neck and pull it close. His breath hitched, and the sensation of tightness around his neck was too much. He fell over the edge in a great burst of color and ecstasy. The Mark flared, bathing them in green, and the other two shivered as if sharing his delight.

Solas let the scarf loose, though he remained inside Lavellan. The Inquisitor had to take Dorian’s face in his hand, to pause the overwhelming sensation. Dorian kissed his hand thoroughly, and haltingly stood, to meet his lips. Lavellan could taste himself on the other man’s skin.

“That… was good,” he said faintly, still holding onto Solas with one hand. The other elf was not moving, simply holding them together as close as they could be. Lavellan could feel him nod against his back.

Dorian, still blindfolded, reached until he found Lavellan’s face, and ran a thumb along the Inquisitor’s cheek. Lavellan turned his head to capture it in his mouth, slowly sucking. Dorian smiled, low and warm.

Lavellan let go, and looked over his shoulder. “You’re utterly perfect where you are, but my legs are about to give. Besides, I have something else I want to give you, and I think it’s best lying down.”

Solas’ eyes widened and he bit his lip. Lavellan couldn’t help being turned on by the sight. Slowly, the other elf nodded and withdrew, a motion that sent aftershocks of pleasure through the Inquisitor. Together they sank down into the cushions around them, and Lavellan reached over to guide Dorian down as well.

They lay on either side of Solas, who looked to first one, then the other, looking both aroused and uncertain. He was still mostly clothed, only the front of his pants and buckle undone. Slowly, Dorian felt around the edges of his shirt and slid his hands underneath, reaching up and rubbing in slow, firm circles. Solas’ breath caught as Lavellan came from the other side, running a tongue along the edge of one sensitive ear.

“You’re aware.. this is… something of a first, for me,” said Solas softly, even as it was clear he no longer had total control over his breathing.

“We stop when you say so, always,” replied Lavellan. 

“I very much want you to continue.”

The Inquisitor smiled. He reached over to lay one hand on Dorian’s shoulder. “Are you ready?”

The other mage nodded.

Lavellan slid his hand down to clasp Dorian’s. He closed his eyes, and felt very carefully for what he was about to do.

Solas gasped. “What are you--”

Light wrapped them and held them. They were still in the cave, but now it was alive. It was as if they had been asleep and were now awake. Threads of red and gold moved around rocks that shone with the radiance of stars, and the sky outside was banded with a thousand auroras. The warmth was all around them, responsive to everything they had done, redoubling as if their lovemaking had echoed back to them.

“How is it that we are here?” Solas’ voice cracked with emotion.

“I know you chose this place because of how it was in the Fade. We can be here for a little while. Just this small space, just us.”

Flashes of color danced around Solas’ head and he looked at them with delight. Then he leaned up and pulled Lavellan onto him, and kissed him, hard. They could feel the fabric of the Fade respond. Whereas in the physical world, the rocks only held them up, here they were embraced, supported, strengthened.

Whatever inhibition had weighed Solas down was gone. Lavellan could feel him thrust against him with longing, and he obliged. Dorian was focusing most of his attention on holding the space, but the rest of it was bent kissing as much of Solas as he could reach. 

Lavellan felt Solas enter him again, without resistance; they had everything they needed. He looked down at Solas beneath him and Dorian beside him, and he began to ride.

With every downward thrust, Solas arched into Lavellan. His motions became wilder, and the scenery around them lost coherence. It was all feeling now, a height of intensity none of them had ever before felt, and Lavellan felt certain every inch of him was afire in ecstasy. Solas gave a scream of joy that Lavellan had never heard, and then he also shuddered and came again, and Dorian caught them both, and they were quite certainly falling through everything and nothing, and light was all around them, and--

Lavellan closed the rift.

They were in the cave, lying on sweat-soaked cushions in the dark and glimmer of green flames. Lavellan was collapsed on top of Solas and Dorian had his arm flung over both of them. For a long while they could do nothing else but breathe. The Inquisitor felt the slight chest rise and fall underneath him, and the firm arm over him, and grinned in the dark.

At last he moved off, but only to snatch up a blanket from the basket and throw it over all three of them. Solas undid the blindfold over Dorian’s eyes, and the three of them held each other close.

“You must explain to me how you did that,” were the first words out of Solas’ mouth.

Dorian smirked. “I told you he’d only want to know the trick of it.”

“Sorry to have kept our practicing from you, but we wanted it to be a surprise,” said Lavellan.

“It… was very meaningful.”

“I’m glad of that.” The Inquisitor smiled contentedly. “Don’t worry, I’ll explain it all later. I would still like to enjoy our time here before--” he yawned, “--getting into the technicals.”

“That, and I hope you brought something to eat,” remarked Dorian. “I think traveling into the Fade with such exquisite company has given me an appetite.”

Solas wriggled up from the cushions to reach into the basket and retrieve a bottle of wine, and a wrapped loaf of bread with a wheel of cheese. Dorian chuckled. “I should have known you’d think of everything.”

The stars outside shone in the darkness, down on the little ring of green flame near the peak of the mountain. Nothing disturbed the slope, except the wind over the snow, and faint laughter floating up to the sky.


End file.
